


Der Rote Faden

by Laurencin



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurencin/pseuds/Laurencin
Summary: Siegfried-centric drabble collection. Things I won't finish unless someone asks.
Relationships: Jin/Siegfried, King Josef/Siegfried (Granblue Fantasy), Percival/Siegfried (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. percysieg: they bone

He had never been particularly good with words. Years in isolation had, unsurprisingly, not changed this. But he didn't need to speak for this; hardly even needed to listen. He could feel the tension lying thickly in the air between them; he could see Percival's gaze wavering, trying so very hard to meet his eyes rather than stare into his mouth; could have, if he wanted to, moved to beat Percival to the move he was about to make. But the prince needed to learn how to take, and Siegfried was perfectly happy to be taken. So he remained still, staring up into blazing red eyes, watching the cheeks beneath them flush to match.

With a trembling hand, Percival swept the hair from Siegfried's brow, tracing around his face, cupping his chin. Siegfried nuzzled into the contact; it wasn’t a calculated gesture, simply a reflex after years without human touch. Still, it produced the desired effect.

"Gods above," Percival cursed, leaning in to press their lips together. So chaste. So very Percival. Enough for another day, perhaps, but not right now; Siegfried _wanted_. Wanted badly.

**

Was it odd, for a man like him - a beast, really - to feel most comfortable like this? It seemed perversely vulnerable, lying exposed like this, someone tucked in between his thighs, _inside_ him no less, holding him down. If they were attacked right now, what could he do? He could throw Percival, perhaps; his hands were already on him, gripping his shoulders, his neck, his hair. But this was a grip for holding close, not slinging afar; it would take some adjustment, a few precious seconds. It would be safer, really, if he were the one above, taking Percival from behind, pushing his face into the pillows, muffling his noises. That would be optimal. And yet.

And yet.

Here he was, wrapping his legs ever tighter around the prince, holding him closer, demanding friction. He couldn't bring himself to indulge in volume; the sounds that made it past his and Percival's lips were scarcely above a whisper. Little mewling things he hadn't known himself capable of producing. Percival seemed to like them, though, as they were often followed by deeper thrusts, soft sighs of Siegfried's name. That, more than anything, he never wanted to end. It sounded so innocent on Percival's lips, so utterly divorced from the deeds attached to it, from soldiers cheering it, from the dying screeches which so often accompanied it. These things were never gone from his mind, not completely, but for a little while, cradled in someone's arms, they seemed so distant.

"Percival," Siegfried sighed, curling his hands into flaming locks, massaging the scalp beneath, pressing their foreheads together. Golden eyes drifting closed. "Thank you."

The knight's pace faltered, and Siegfried felt his brow furrow between them. "What--" Percival's grip shifted on Siegfried's thigh, opening him wider. "Wait until I give you something to be grateful for, at the very least."

Siegfried shook his head, nuzzling against his partner. "You always do." He could hear Percival's teeth grinding. Embarrassed, probably. If Siegfried looked, he was sure he would see Percival's cheeks turning the same brilliant crimson he wore into battle. But, if he opened his eyes, it would all be over, and he wasn't ready for that. He wanted to drink in as much as he could. Soft lips and hot breath against his neck, sucking at his pulse; Percival inside him, thrusting deep and sharp, filling him up; the creaking bed, accented by their laboured breaths, their skin clapping together, again, again, again. He wished, briefly, that he'd acted on Percival's attraction when he was still captain of the guard, that they may have had more time to learn each other's bodies, explore one another. He tightened his grip around Percival's shoulders. Better late than never. And, really, he would never have given up his time with Josef.

"Percival..." The prince’s hand found the small of his back, tracing soothing circles into it.

"I know," the prince said, his usual snappy tone lost to tenderness, lost to desire. "I know."


	2. percysieg: dragons don't wear hairnets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during bistro feendrache. Siegfried bullies percy and it's fine

"This doesn't seem entirely sanitary, Percival."

"Are you-- is that a joke? Are you joking?" Siegfried’s expression remained unchanged; Josef had remarked upon his “poker face” in the past, but he hadn’t appreciated its significance until Percival came along. He was so easy to goad, especially since the café had opened up - and when he got agitated, Siegfried would be there to help him blow off steam. "You've been eating poisonous invertebrates off the ground for the past three days, and this is what concerns you?"

"I just feel that, if my head is to be directly on the counter, I ought to be wearing a hairnet." Percival stood above him, glowering down as if he could will him bald right then and there. "I think customers will be much less appreciative of my hair if it's in their food."

"Siegfried."

"Yes, Percival?"

"I don't give two figs what customers want right now."

That was, in fact, quite fair. The café had been closed for a couple hours now, and even Vane and Lancelot had retired for the night. But Percival remained, intent on ensuring the restaurant was prepared for the next day, and the day after that, and so on. He was taking this little dalliance terribly seriously, and so Siegfried had offered to help. Alleviate some of the pressure.

He hadn't necessarily meant the offer as a double entendre, but given his previous... extra curriculars with the prince, he wasn't particularly surprised to have been taken that way.

The doors had barely swung shut behind Vane and Lancelot when Percival grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform, pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Having taken Siegfried somewhat by surprise, Percival pressed his advantage, guiding them both toward the prep counter.

It was a quaint little fantasy of Percival's that their trysts involved some sort of power struggle like this; the reality, though, was simply that Siegfried was perfectly happy to be taken. But he knew Percival enjoyed this little game, and offered up a token resistance: he was the first to go for the throat; he freed Percival of his apron, his belt, the first few buttons of his shirt; he growled against Percival's skin, nipping and sucking down his neck. Little plays at dominance. But, ultimately, he allowed Percival to gain the upper hand, to push him backward onto the counter, to slide between his thighs, to kiss and bite his way down Siegfried's chest. It was in this moment, with Percival's arousal flush to his own, straining against his trousers, that Siegfried decided to voice his hygienic concerns. Percival was not amused. Siegfried was. Only one of them showed it.

"Well," Siegfried whispered, pulling Percival down by his shirt, "I suppose it can be our secret." Percival's lips met his hungrily, teeth scraping at the tender flesh offered to them; at the same time, Percival's hand slipped down the front of Siegfried's trousers, palming him through his smallclothes.


	3. siegjin: on expectation and reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jin and siegfried fuck on the beach! ...again!

He sat back on his haunches, pulled Siegfried's body - carelessly limp, pliant, so ready to be _used_ \- into his lap. A better view this way, he thought, easing himself inside. Watched fluttering breaths wrack Siegfried's body, the languid smile on his lips quivering, faltering as he sighed. Muscles tensed and untensed, fingers curled into the blanket beneath them, gathering fistfuls of sand and linen. Jin reached out to touch one of the clenched fists, stroke his thumb along the whitened knuckles. With probably unnecessary deftness, Siegfried seized his hand, pulled it to his lips.

"You must think I'm terribly fragile," he laughed, lips brushing against Jin's hand. Softer than a knight's really ought to be, Jin thought, but what did he know?

"Of course not," Jin said, voice low, a gentle smile on his face, in his eyes. "I just think you should be admired."

"Oh."

It was difficult to believe that this man, the one pulling him in for hungry kisses, the one carving angry tracks across his back, his shoulders, was the same man who felled Fafnir. The man who stalked the shadows of Feendrache for years, alone, referenced sparingly and fearfully as _Kingslayer_.

Jin pulled his head back, inspecting the man beneath him. The flush that danced across his cheeks, tipped his ears, his nose. The sweet, almost coy smile that played on his lips, the twinkle in his eyes. Jin snorted a little laugh; Kingslayer, indeed. If he hadn't the myriad scars to prove it, it would’ve defied belief.

"It's a bit rude to laugh in moments like this, I think," Siegfried said, smile never leaving his lips.

"You're going to lecture me on interpersonal etiquette, now, are you?"

"Mmhmm. I'm a little excited, actually, I'm usually the one—the-- mm _nhh_ \--" Jin interrupted him with a teasing roll of his hips, pushing himself in to the hilt. "...the one receiving those lectures."

"I can't imagine why."


	4. josef/siegfried: actually complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josef swears up and down that he didn't mean to fall for the stray, but intentions don't mean much.

Some would say - in fact, several _had_ said, very directly to his face - that taking in the stray appeared to be in violation of his better judgement. This was very plainly not true; the decision was made in direct counsel with his better judgement. It just so happened that his judgement was colluding with his base desires.

For what it was worth, he did genuinely believe it was in his country's best interest to keep the stray close at hand, that he may monitor its potential as a threat to the safety of the people. It was just that, rather than nipping this particular threat in the bud, he sought to let it bloom in his care. And, my, what a lovely bloom it had been.

Siegfried's fingers flexed and strained in the sheets, gathering and ungathering fistfuls of folds as he writhed against the satin. Incredible, Josef thought, that he should be able to produce such a reaction. That this former beast, this razier of armies, should be reduced to a mewling, sighing puddle beneath him. Absolutely incredible. Overcome by the sight, Joseph dove forward, gathering Siegfried in his arms for a suffocating kiss. The _dragonslayer_ sighed into his mouth, lips parting to allow the king entry, and Josef could feel the tension beginning to slough off of Siegfried's form. "That's it," he mumbled between kisses, massaging circles into Siegfried's back. "You're doing so well."

"Josef," Siegfried said, voice breaking against Josef's thrusts, "I can't. I can't."

"You can," Josef urged. "Please, try."

"What if I-- ah--" Siegfried's grip on the sheets tightened, his brow furrowed. The golden light in his eyes - whatever mysterious power that was - shone fiercely, even through the shroud of his thick lashes. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I don't believe you would let yourself."

Siegfried swallowed hard, shook his head ever so slightly, but Josef could see his grip on the sheets going slack. The muscles in his arms beginning to soften as tension drained.

"Siegfried, please."

Slowly, painfully slowly, Siegfried released his grip on the bedspread, and allowed himself to wrap his arms around Josef's shoulders. Josef could feel that Siegfried's fists were still clenched, trembling with the effort, knuckles digging into Josef’s shoulder blades, but this was enough. Siegfried, holding him close, breath hot against his neck, coming faster, louder. Josef buried his face in Siegfried's hair, drinking him in - pleased to note that, even without instruction, he had continued to use the lavender soap.

"That's it," he said, pressing haphazard kisses to Siegfried's scalp, his ear, his neck. "You're alright."

"Yes," Siegfried sighed. "Yes, I-- Josef--"

He didn't need to say anything, really; Josef could feel Siegfried tightening around him, muscles fluttering, breath catching in his throat. But it felt so _good_ to hear his voice, shuddering and high, ghosting over his ears, and only his ears. He couldn't help but work a little harder, drive a little deeper, if it meant he could hear more sounds like that.

“Come along, then,” Josef said, snaking a hand between them, seeking out Siegfried’s neglected erection. “You’ve been so good.” He captured Siegfried’s lips in a languid kiss, drinking up all the sighs and murmurs the _dragonslayer_ produced as Josef tended to him.

It was only a few long, unhurried strokes before Siegfried came against him, moaning into their kiss, vibrating through them so deeply it felt rather more like a purr. His back arched beautifully off the sheets, trapping Josef’s arm momentarily between them; not that he was bothered, of course. It might as well be there, stroking Siegfried through his climax, sending shocks through his body that wracked his entire form. These little vibrations were what brought the king to his shuddering orgasm, breaking their kiss to gasp Siegfried’s name as he spilled inside, hips stuttering to a stop.

Sliding himself out of the knight, Josef lowered himself gently, slowly, til he lay against Siegfried’s sweat-slicked chest. Already, his breathing was remarkably even; Josef wondered if this was another consequence of the dragon blood, but this was likely impossible to confirm. It didn’t matter, ultimately; he was a comfortable pillow regardless.

The first hint of Siegfried’s returning lucidity was the hand splayed across Josef’s back. No longer afraid of an errant clench or jerk, Siegfried’s hand smoothed up Josef’s spine, squeezed gently at the base of his neck. Siegfried’s chest swelled under Josef’s cheek as he prepared to speak.

“I should—“ preempting Siegfried’s statement, Josef slipped a hand over Siegfried’s mouth, silencing him. He felt Siegfried’s lips curl against him, quirking into a smile.

“You don’t need to.”

The hand on Josef’s neck crept into his hair, cradled his skull. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Darling.

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory social media plug  
> sfw here:  
> https://twitter.com/Iaurencin  
> nsfw here:  
> https://twitter.com/tyrfingering


End file.
